


You Know It's Hard, But It Just Keeps Getting Harder

by ialpiriel



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Medical, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 20:06:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9254474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ialpiriel/pseuds/ialpiriel
Summary: Dr. Alexandria Hypatia moves in with Lucia Pastor, after leaving the Dreadful Wale.





	

**Author's Note:**

> my game keeps crashing when i try to leave the clockwork mansion, so i haven't managed to find lucia's apartment on my second playthrough, if it even exists. to that end: if the layout is wrong, i don't care.

“I’m sorry there's only one bed,” Lucia says, sets Alexandria’s trunk inside the door. “There is the sofa, too, and I’m certain someone will be willing to trade a cot or a bedframe and mattress for a consultation. There’s no shortage of furniture these days.”

“I can sleep on the sofa,” Alexandria says, quiet, eyes casting across the dusty apartment--a window _just_ cracked, enough that there's a sifted pile of dust under it, not enough for more than half a breeze to stir the papers scattered across the tables, the floor, the kitchen countertops, the vanity. “I have certainly slept in worse places in recent memory.”

“I'll take the sofa,” Lucia says, low, kicks the door shut and latches it. Outside, guards yell at howlers, who howl back. There’s a crash of bottles, a single pistol shot, more howling, the sound of a corpse hitting the cobblestones. Alexandria watches the peeling windowsill, watches the eddies of dust in the half-breeze. “You’re still recovering,” Lucia says, soft, low, firm. “We can switch off, once you’re back on your feet.”

Alexandria tears her eyes from the swirling dirt, huffs a laugh.

“Of course, Lucia,” she agrees.

“It’s back here,” Lucia says, pulls aside the oilpaper screen. The bed isn't much more than a cot, really, but there’s a small cabinet with a candle and a stack of books on it, a chamberpot at the foot, a folded blanket at the head, a thin sheet tucked around the mattress as neatly as possible when everything is coated in dust.

“It’s cozy,” Alexandria says, sets her suitcase down on the bed. Lucia snorts.

“That’s certainly one word for it. The family upstairs offered it to me when the mother living here died of black spittle. Her daughters moved in with the family upstairs. No one bothers me, unless it’s an emergency, so.” Lucia looks away, toward her kitchen corner. There’s a pot sitting on the counter--empty--and a bag of potatoes--three quarters full--a bag of carrots--half filled--and a stack of pratchett jellied eels--four tins.

“They seem like kind people,” Alexandria murmurs, tips her suitcase onto its side, and throws the latches. She opens the suitcase, goes to take the first piece of clothing, out, and stops, presses her hands against the fabric. “Will there be a need for me to unpack my things, or will I be leaving here soon?” she asks.

Lucia settles onto the sofa, adjusts the single threadbare decorative pillow.

“You’re welcome as long as you need to stay,” Lucia says. She fiddles with the torn patch on the edge of the sofa cushion. “You’ll need a lab, I’m certain, but we can find you another space tomorrow, or the day after. When you’re feeling better.”

“It may be longer than a few short days before I feel better.” Alexandria closes her suitcase, drops it to the floor, pushes it under the bed instead of unpacking.

“You deserve a few more days rest before you go back to work, Alex.” Lucia stands, walks over, places one hand between Alexandria's shoulder blades. Alexandria’s shoulder slump, and she sighs. Out in the street, there’s a yell, then another further away, then silence again. A gust of wind rattles a window in its frame.

“I’ve been resting for weeks, I don’t want to rest anymore.”

“Let’s compromise,” Lucia says, sits down on the edge of the bed. She leans back on her hands, smiles up at Alexandria, who after a moment sits down next to her. “I’ve been in contact with the miners family committee, they said they could find somewhere for you to work, away from the dukes faze, sometime this week. They may have an answer tomorrow. Why don't you come with me, and help me feed the miners tomorrow? You can meet the neighborhood, get to know them, and we can see if the committee has a place for you yet.” Lucia puts one hand over Alexandria's, smiles a little broader. “You get comfortable, I’ll cook supper.”

“There will be time to get comfortable in a bit. Let me help you cook, first.” Alexandria looks determined, leans forward a little, her face set, eyebrows furrowed. Lucia laughs, squeezes Alexandria’s hand.

“Since you clearly won't be dissuaded--” she stands, smooths her hands down the front of her shirt, “--how good are you at chopping potatoes?”

“Passable,” Alexandria replies, and follows Lucia out to the kitchen.

***

The space is small, a studio room off neutral territory. There’s an oilpaper divider just inside the door, four chairs set against the wall close by. Around the divider, there's a line of three mattresses, all ragged, all stained, all clearly donated. Past that is another oilpaper divider, a kitchen beyond it--a stove, two tables, a pantry cupboard. One table is pushed against a wall, the other against the divider.

Lucia brings the trunk in behind Alexandria, weaves through the dividers, chairs, mattresses to leave it under the wall-table.

“The door has a latch and a lock, so you can latch it while you're here, and lock it when you leave.” Lucia puts her hands on her hips, looks around at the unused-but-not-barren room. “I’ll give you some time to get set up, and I’ll be around near dusk to walk you back to the apartment.”

“Thank you.” Alexandria's face lights up. “I should be able to start taking patients within the next few days, once i have things set up here.” Alexandria drops to one knee, throws the latches on her trunk. He first thing out is a burner, then a stand, then a procession of flasks, vials, and other glassware. Lucia stands back, watches as Alexandria unloads, rearranges, and puts away her equipment. “I’ll need to get the components for the solution as well as for the other treatments I was working on, although that can wait until tomorrow.”

“I can put out feelers for you, today, if you would like?” Lucia offers. “The black market shops can certainly get some of the ingredients for you.”

“If you could, please.” Alexandria sghs, closes the pantry door. “I have coin, I can pay.”

“Be careful that you don't get taken on a deal.” Lucia settles down onto the nearest mattress. “They'll try to take you for what you're worth, or more, if they think they can get away with it”

“Times are hard,” Alexandria murmurs. “I understand that people are desperate.” She sets vials of Addermire solution on the divider-table, lining them up in a neat row.

Lucia sighs.

“I’ll get you a list of what you _should_ be paying for things, if you can get me a list.”

“I’Il write one today, after I have things put away. Where might I find bedsheets, to keep the mattresses…” Alexandria trails off, scowling at the three mattresses. “Clean.”

“If you have a paper and some ink, I’ll draw you a map of the neighborhood. I wouldn't suggest log excursions without me or another escort, until you’re an accepted and known part of the community, but a short trip to the linens shop should be alright. She’s married to a miner who lost a leg in an accident, tell her you’re with me and she may give you a discount, though she might also just not overcharge you.” Alexandria holds out a blank journal and a wax pencil, and Lucia takes them, sketches out the streets in quick, steady strokes. “She does laundry, too, though she’s the more expensive option. One of my neighbors does my laundry for cheaper. The linen seller is closer to this office, though, see, she’s here,” Lucia marks an X on the paper, two streets over, four buildings up, “while our apartment is here.” She marks another X, up four blocks, and over three. “That’s a long way to carry soiled sheets, so it’s up to you which you choose, of course.”

Alexandria hums.

“I’ll mark a few other places on this map, you go back to getting set up. I have a little time before I need to get down to the street. The first of the lunch crew don’t show up for another two hours or so.” Lucia bends over the map, begins marking other places with X's, labelling them. Alexandria returns to her setting up, humming softly to herself.

***

Lucia is asleep on the couch, when Alexandria opens the door, well past dark, even the guards and howlers quiet in the dark of the night. Alexandria slides in, closes the door softly, bends to one knee to untie her boots--gifted to her after her shoes were ruined by a week of standing in the muck in the street to triage people--then pads toward her bed on sock feet.

“Alex?” Lucia asks, mumbly, soft, sleep-heavy.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Alexandria replies, turns, hunches her shoulders.

“No, no, I was worried,” Lucia replies, waves one hand as she scrubs at her eyes with the other. “What happened? I meant to stay up and wait for you but I dozed off, I’m sorry. I would have come and helped.”

 

Alexandria sighs, pushes the divider aside so she can sit on the bed and still see Lucia.

“An overseer threw a grenade at a group of howlers. Most of them got out of the way, but a girl chose the wrong moment to leave her home to see what was happening. She was bleeding badly, but we stabilized her.” Alexandria puts her face in her hands, sighs, rubs her forehead. Her hair is loose and limp around her face, cheeks more hollow than they were even just a week ago. “I amputated the worst of the leg, and bandaged what I could, and sent her home. I don’t expect her to survive another week, especially not if the bloodflies find her, or if she gets an infection of the blood.”

“Sometimes there’s nothing you can do,” Lucia says, quiet. She leans on her knees ,studies the floorboards. “And then you do what you can.”

“I know, Lucia,” Alexandria replies, voice slow, heavy with exhaustion. “It’s hard to believe I’m helping when things like this happen, though.”

“We do what we can,” Lucia replies, shuffles across to the bed, and settles next to Alexandria. She bumps their shoulders together. “That’s all we can do.”

“I know,” Alexandria sighs, sags against Lucia. Lucia wraps one arm around her.

After a moment, Lucia leans up, kisses Alexandria’s temple.

“Go to sleep, Alex. Take it one day at a time. You did what you could.” She rocks gently, side to side, and Alexandria rocks with her.

“I know, I know, I know.” Alexandria's voice cracks. “I know.”

“Why don’t you sit on the sofa, I’ll make you a cup of tea. You’ll drive yourself to exhaustive breakdown again.” Lucia releases her hold on Alexandria, rubs her back.

Alexandria stays on the bed, unbuckles her belts, unbuttons her shoulder straps, and Lucia sets a kettle on the stove.

***

Alexandria wakes with a gasp, claws at her cocoon of linen sheets. Lucia is at her side in a moment, hand on Alexandria's cheek as Alexandria clutches at her wrist, breathes hard and fast.

“Alex, Alex, it’s me. You’re okay.” She brushes Alexandria's hair off her face with her free hand. Alexandria breathes out a sigh ,closes her eyes, leans into the touch.

“It was--a nightmare. That’s all.” Alexandria fumbles for the sheets, pulls it tight across her arm. “I--Stay with me?”

“Of course,” Lucia agrees, and after a moment, she climbs onto the bed too. it creaks ominously beneath them.

They lay face to face, and after a moment Alexandria weaves her fingers through Lucia’s.

“I’m sorry to have intruded in your life this way.” She sighs. “Perhaps I should admit myself to Addermire on grounds of exhaustive derangement.” She squeezes her eyes shut.

“Alex, Alex, look at me.” Lucia pats Alexandria’s cheek, and Alexandria slowly, slowly opens her eyes. “I've had a dozen people tell me about how much better they're feeling since you came here, just in the last two days. I've lost count of how many have said the same in the last three weeks.” She sweeps Alexandria’s hair back. Alexandria stays holding onto her wrist, eyes heavy-lidded, breathing like she’s still half a moment from crying. “You’re still recovering, but you’re doing good work. We want you here.”

“Thank you,” Alexandria manages, voice cracking. “Will you stay here?”

“Of course,” Lucia replies. “Roll over, that’s easier.”

Alexandria snorts in the back of her nose, wet and snotty, and laughs. She rolls onto her other side, and Lucia scoots closer, drapes her arm over Alexandria’s side. After a moment, Alexandria’s hand finds hers again, and she winds their fingers together. Lucia sighs, soft, and presses her nose against the back of Alexandria’s neck. Alexandria smells like ether, Addermire solution, perpetual dust, sweat, and the faint oily smell of her waterproofed jacket, which hangs, still dripping, next to the door. Alexandria breathes deep, and Lucia shifts to get comfortable, presses against Alexandria’s back. Alexandria, in her turn, rests her weight back, against Lucia, breathes slow and easy, and as the rain patters against the window, they drift off together.


End file.
